


Bass: The Not Quite Drama

by LordGrimwing



Series: Neos Mnestis [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordGrimwing/pseuds/LordGrimwing
Summary: Drift is living in New Crystal City. He and his bondmate Bass are invited to a party at Dai Atlas's estate. Bass has some concerns.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a Christmas gift for my little sister.
> 
> Sorry, there's a lot of head cannon.
> 
> Mecha is the NCC word for femme.

The artificial sun of New Crystal City filled the underground society with a golden glow. It was the time of day when love struck newly bondeds strolled down the elegantly carved streets, arm-in-arm as they basked in each other’s presence, and when families gathered home to be together until the sun rose again. And, in the center of the city proper, high above any other structure, shone the golden dome of the Circle of Light. Like a beacon of fire, it stood within view of the whole city. From the doorway of every house, the radiant cupola could be seen. Most doors were left open at this special time of day, letting some of the light from the holy structure stream into each building, to remind the families within of where true light—the light of Primus—came from.

One house, however, never had the front door left open.

Drift sighed as he opened the door to the house that he and Bass shared. The interior was well lit, though the electric lights cast a white—not gold—light.

“Remember to close the door!”

The shout came from the second floor, echoing slightly off the bare walls. Although the knight trainee would have preferred to let the more ‘natural’ light come in, he did as his bonded directed. Happy sparkmate, happy home. At least, that’s what Wing kept telling him.

Hanging his two swords on their hooks by the door, Drift mounted the stairs and ascended to the house’s top level. Small pieces of grit scratched against his right servo as he trailed it up the banister. He’d have to remember to clean their home tomorrow, before the buildup of rock dust began collecting in their vents.

The clanging of small peds alerted Drift to the approach of his and Bass’s young creation.

“Dift! Dift!” The blue and white mechling launched himself into his sire’s open arms.

“Hey there Kyro.” Drift hefted the excited mechling up to his shoulder. Although Kyro was only about three in Cybertronian standard, the dense armor of his alt mode was already forming and it took a surprising amount of force for Drift to pick him up. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! We play with blocks today!” Kyro grabbed at his sire’s helm finials, trying to get the small one over Drift’s audio receptor into his mouth.

“You and Carry?” Drift asked, gently pulling the sensitive finial from between his creation’s denta.        

“No, no.” Kyro abandoned the finials and went for the servo keeping him on Drift’s shoulder. “Me and him! We play with blocks!” He began trying to work one of the unwilling digits into his little mouth.

Drift chuckled as he swung the mechling back to the ground, where he wasn’t in danger of falling. “You two have fun?” His creation’s dedication to his imaginary friend was cute—most of the time. Though it would have been nice if he were willing to be friends with the other younglings he went to school with.

“Yep!” With that, Kyro ran back the way he had come, motioning for some unseen being to follow him.

Drift continued his walk down the hall. “You in here Bass?” He called, tapping on the door that led into the room they shared.

“Don’t come in!” The door muffled the shout. “I’m not decent!”

With a roll of his red optics, Drift placed his left servo over the panel to open the door. “I’m coming in anyways! Don’t worry, Kyro’s not following.” Bass was his bondmate after all, it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen each other ‘indecent’ before. The door slid away.

There, in front of the vanity, stood Bass. Her yellow wings tilted down in concentration as she raised a delicate brush to her thin lips. Drift took a moment, taking in the view of the flier’s delicate curvature. After painting her lips, Bass turned, facing Drift, with her arms slightly extended.

“Well? How do I look?” The blue and brown seeker asked. She’d polished her plating to a happy shine, even going so far as applying a concealing layer of paint over some of the areas that were slightly off color from long healed battle wounds. On her were magnetized a few intricately welded metal and gem mods, and she even was wearing one of the gossamer neck-bands that they’d seen many other Neo Citizen mechas wearing at formal events.

“Gorgeous my dear, as ever you are.” Drift moved forward to catch his bonded up in a hug.

Bass forestalled him, placing her blue-green servos on his chest plate to keep him back. “You’re just saying that.” She stated before turning back to the vanity and wiping the paint from her lips onto a slightly stained cloth.

“What do you mean Bassy?” The knight-in-training came to stand right behind his somewhat irritated mate.

Without responding, Bass dipped her brush into a different tub of paint and liberally covered her yellow lips in a red that matched her optics. She took a moment to observe herself in the mirror, twisting her face this way and that and pursing her lips to get a better look at her work. Sighing, she wiped the paint off again. With a grumble, she reached for a black paint. Repeating the application process, she ended up wiping her work away again.

Drift stopped her before she could reach for another container, placing a firm but gentle servo over her’s. “Bassy,” he whispered, “you look fine—wonderful really. No one is expecting you to look like a Towersling model tonight. We’re just going to a little social gathering, nothing big.” He pulled the brush from her digits and placed it back in its special crystal box.

“But… but Drift.” Bass allowed her bonded to turn her until they were standing face-to-face. “I just want to look good. I know I can’t measure up to the femmes here; I’m Vossian, I’m not used to being the one who needs to look pretty.” She looked away. “But I’m trying Drift. I’m trying to fit in and show the others that—that you’re a good mech and I’m a good femme. It’s just so hard.”

Drift held her then. He wrapped his arms around the quivering frame, and pulled her close. “I don’t want you to be like everyone else Bassy.” He petted the fins on her helm. “You know how much it means to me to fit in here and become a knight, but Bass, I want you to be happy too. And do you know what I think of when I imagine you happy?”

“What?” Bass raised her head.

“I remember times when you just chatted with Pharma, or that time when you challenged Perceptor to a duel after he said one of his more functionalist quotes. I love that you’re so different from every other mecha I’ve met.” Drift moved his servos to Bass’s shoulders. “Now, I don’t expect you to be hanging on my arm the whole evening, but Wing is expecting his apprentice’s bondmate to dance to at least one song with him before Dai Atlas formally starts the gathering.”

The expression that appeared on Bass’ face plate was somewhere between ire and devious joy. “He does, does he? Well then, I’m going to have to show him just how a Vossian femme dances.” With that, she turned back to the vanity, grabbed her paint brush, slapped on a thin streak of fuchsia, and marched into the hall, shouting, “Kyro! Get your treds out here, you’re going over to Mss. Blues’s house!”

Drift dashed out after her, snagging a chamois as he went, realizing Bass was heading for the gathering right then.   

 

 

The lights in the grounds of Dai Atlas’s estate twinkled in time with the soft string music coming from the group of highly skilled, and highly paid, musicians. Knights and their mecha bondmates walked sedately though the elegantly crafted crystal gardens, chatting amicably with one another as the night wore on. One such group, consisting of five mechs and three mechas, sat under the sprawling growth of an opaque crystal.

Bass sat by Drift’s side, her left wing tapping against his shoulder armor in a possessive manner as they listened to Axe recite an uproarious story from his days as a younger knight. From her spot on his lap, Axe’s bondmate, Cancix, laughed civilly at just the right moments, though it was obvious she’d heard the tale before.  

“Really?”

Axe was interrupted in the truly hilarious monolog by Outrigger. The youthful, brown, knight leaned forward, tan servos resting on his soon-to-be bonded’s slim shoulders. “Did Dai Atlas— _the_ Dai Atlas—really nearly lop his own helm off during training?” The youngest knight present had always seen the leader of the Circle of Light as being an impeccable sword wielder.

“Yes, indeed!” Axe boomed in his resounding voice. The little group was so far from any other for a reason. “And do you know what he said when I told him to be more careful?” The purple and yellow flier paused for effect.

“Oh, just get on with it.” Wing, who was seated next to the senior knight, shoved good-naturedly at the teller’s shoulder.

“Hey.” Axe rumbled. “Just ‘cause you’re in the Circle now Wing doesn’t mean you get to push us other knights around.”

Cancix placed a white servo on her mate’s cheek. “Really now Axe.” She said in her elderly voice. “Just because you’re getting old and creaky doesn’t mean you get to be cranky.”

“Fine dear, but only because you say so.” Axe sent his bonded an adoring look before turning back to Outrigger. “He said—he was only just older than a mechling at the time mind you—he said, ‘It wasn’t my fault! Star Saber told me to do it!’”

Everyone burst out laughing.

Even though she didn’t really get what was so funny about the whole thing, Bass went along with it. She’d never really paid much attention to the city’s odd political-spiritual government. The evening was going much better than she’d expected when Drift and she’d arrived and seen the bonded couples walking arm-in-arm, the mech slightly in front.

When the laughing subsided, Redline, the quietest of the group and the only mech in the whole gathering—as far as Bass saw—who had a glyph of bonding burned into his servo but no accompanying mate, leveled them all with a dour frown. “You may laugh at that now, but next time our brilliant Centre ends up in the infirmary because he wouldn’t listen to his second, I’m going to let one of you deal with him.” 

Redline climbed to his peds before continuing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go thank our gracious host—and remind him not to do anything stupid.” With that, the white and red mech (a really poplar color, as Bass had come to realize) limped off in search of Dai Atlas.

The night wore on and the little group returned to the main plaza for dancing and light refreshments. Wing eventually did steal Bass away from Drift for a song.

“You’re adjusting to life here well then?” The knight inquired as he spun Bass around the dance floor. 

“Well enough.” As a Vossian, Bass came from a very matriarchically society. The sudden culture shock of New Crystal City had been somewhat hard (actually really, incredibly, hard) for her to get used to. She’d never thought that she’d be the one raising sparklings.

“I really must thank you for the magnetic blocks. Kyro enjoys them much more than the bullets Perceptor left him.” Of course, she didn’t mention the odd little fit her creation threw upon being told he couldn’t play with the armor piercing rounds anymore. That was one of the times his belief in an imaginary friend was obnoxious.  

“That’s wonderful!” Wing smiled at her. “I’ve always thought there’s something not quite civilized about younglings playing with explosives and—”

Before he could say more, the music began to swell to a faster beat.

“If you don’t mind,” Bass interjected, “I like this part.” With that, she switched their servoholds and led the startled knight around the dance floor in a series of sharp, twisting moves.

The music abruptly ended. Bass, and a panting Wing, came to a stop right in front of Drift. Bidding her stunned partner a goodnight, Bass turned to her bondmate. “Come Drift.” She took his arm in a very domineering way. “I’m ready to go home now.” The blue, brown, and yellow seeker flounced off, Drift stumbling behind her.

Before they were out of hearing range, Bass turned back to the still staring Wing. “After all,” she shouted, “I _am_ just an uncouth infidel.”

In Bass’s mind, the look that covered Wing’s face made the whole night worth it.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Time to explained some head cannon!
> 
> The Circle of Light is comprised of something like twelve knights. The leader is called the Centre and the second in command is called the Second. 
> 
> Redline is a knight, but he spends most of his time working as a doctor for the other the knights. He was/is bonded, but his wife died while carrying their only child.


End file.
